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Of her great Confort, provident and mild.
Now wander'd musing thro' the darkning depth
Of thickest woods, friendly to folemn thought :
Now o'er broad lawns fair-op’ning to the sun.
Nor midst her rural plans disdain'd to mix
The useful arable, and waving corn
With soft turf border’d, and the lowly cot,
That half appears, in branching elms obscur’d.
Here beauty dwells, assembled from the scenes
Of various nature; such as oft inflam'd
With rapture Grecian bards, in that fair vale,
Theffalian Tempe, or thy fav'rite foil,
Arcadia, erst by awe-struck Fancy fillid
With wand'ring forms, the woodland Deities,
Light Nymphs and wanton Satyrs, faintly seen
Quick glancing thro' the shade at close of eve,
Great Pan, and old Silenius. Hither led
By folitary grief shall GEORGE recall
Th’endearing manners, the soft speech, that flow'd
From his lov'd Confort, virtue mix'd with love,
Prudence, and mild infinuating sense:
But chief her thoughtful breast of counsels deep
Capacious, nor unequal to the weight
Of Government. Such was the royal mind
Of wise ELIZA, name of loveliest found
To British ears, and pattern fair to Kings :
Or She who rules the Scepter of the North
Illuftrious, spreading o'er a barb'rous world

The light of arts and manners, and with arms
Infefts th' astonish'd Sultan, hardly now
With scatter'd troops refifting; she drives on
The heavy war, and shakes th' Imperial Throne
Of old Byzantium. Latest time shall found
The praise of female genius. Oft shall GEORGE
Pay the kind tear, and grief of tender words
To CAROLINE, thus oft lamenting fad.

“ Hail facred shade! by me with endless woe “ Still honour'd! ever in my breast shall dwell “Thy image, ever present to my soul “ Thy faithful love, in length of years mature: O skill'd t'enliven time, to foften care “ With looks and smiles and friendship’s chearful

voice! “ Anxious, of Thee bereft, a solitude I feel, that not the fond condoling cares Of our fad offspring can remove. Ev'n now « With lonely steps I trace the gloomy groves,

Thy lov'd receffes, ftudious to recall “ The vanilh'd bliss, and cheat my wandring thoughts « With sweet illusion. Yet I not accuse “ Heav'n's dispensation. Prosperous and long “ Have been my days, and not unknown to fame, " That dwells with virtue. But 'tis hard to part “ The league of antient friendship, to resign “ The home-felt fondness, the secure delight, “ That reason nourish'd, and fair time approv'd.”






AT once to raise our

rev’rence and delight To elevate the mind, and please the fight, To pour

in virtue at th' attentive eye, And waft the soul on wings of extacy; For this the painter's art with nature vies, And bids the visionary faint arise ; Who views the facred forms, in thought afpires, Catches pure zeal, and as he gazes,

fires Feels the same ardour to his breast convey'd, Is what he sees, and emulates the shade.

Thy ftrokes, great Artist, fo sublime appear, They check our pleasure with an awful fear; While, thro' the mortal line, the God you trace, Author himself, and Heir of Jesse's race; In raptures we admire thy bold design, And, as the subject, own the hand divine. While thro’ thy work the rising day shall stream, So long shall last thine honour, praise, and name.

And may thy labours to the Muse impart
Some emanation from her sister art,
To animate the verse, and bid it shine
In colours easy, bright, and strong, as Thine.

Supine on earth an awful figure lies,
While softest slumbers seem to seal his eyes;
The hoary fire Heav'ns guardian care demands,
And at his feet the watchful angel stands.
The form august and large, the mien divine
Betray the * founder of Messiah's line.
Lo! from his loins the promis’d stem ascends,
And high to Heaven its sacred boughs extends :
Each limb productive of some hero fprings,
And blooms luxuriant with a race of kings.
Th'eternal plant wide spreads its arms around,
And with the mighty branch the mystic top is

crown'd. And lo! the glories of th' illustrious line At their first dawn with ripen'd splendors shine, In DAVID all express'd; the good, the great, The king, the hero, and the man compleat. Serene he fits, and sweeps the golden lyre, And blends the prophet's, with the poet's fire. See ! with what art he strikes the vocal strings, The God, his theme, inspiring what he sings ! Hark----or our ears delude us---- from his tongue Sweet flows, or seems to flow, some heav'nly song.


Oh! could thine art arrest the flitting sound,
And paint the voice in magic numbers bound,
Could the warm sun, as erst when Mem non play'd,
Wake with his rising beam the vocal shade:
Then might he draw th' attentive angels down,
Bending to hear the lay, so sweet, so like their own.

On either side the monarch's offspring shine,
And some adorn, and some disgrace their line.
Here Ammon glories ; proud, incestuous lord !
This hand sustains the robe, and that the sword.
Frowning and fierce, with haughty ftrides he tow'rs,
And on his horrid brow defiance low'rs.
There Absolam the ravish'd sceptre sways,
And his stol'n honour all his shame displays :
The base usurper Youth ! who joins in one
The rebel subject, and th' ungrateful fon.

Amid the royal race see Nathan stand: Fervent he seems to speak, and lift his hand ; His looks th' emotion of his soul disclose, And eloquence from every gesture flows. Such and so stern he came, ordain’d to bring Th’ ungrateful mandate to the guilty King : When, at his dreadful voice, a sudden smart Shot thro' the trembling Monarch's conscious heart; From his own lips condemnd ; fevere decree! Had his God prov'd so stern a Judge as He. But man with frailty is allay'd by birth; Consummate purity ne'er dwelt on earth :

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